


Sherlock and Michael

by CassAuzins574



Series: Sherlock and Michael [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:29:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassAuzins574/pseuds/CassAuzins574
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the death of John and Mary Watson in a rather dull and general car accident, they leave behind their six-month-old son Michael. With Harriet back in rehab and Mary without family, the choices are that Michael goes into foster care, or goes into the even less capable hands of John’s best friend, Sherlock Holmes. Nobody really thinks it will work, but with a little coaxing from his shell, Sherlock decides to at least try…<br/>These are the stories of Sherlock and Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Funeral

Sherlock had decided not to wear black. Well, less decided and more refused. Frankly, he’d even tried to refuse to leave the house for this, but Mycroft had managed to drug his tea and he woke up in a car outside the cemetery. For the last half hour that sat in the car, watching the mourners gather.

“Eventually you’ll have to get out of the car” Mycroft said

“So you think” Sherlock replied, folding his arms, “I have no interest in attending”

“Sherlock, you must attend” Mycroft replied, “John and Mary were your closest friends and it’s imperative that you be there”

“Why?” Sherlock snapped, “Why is it so imperative that I show up? The only two people I actually want to see won’t be there” he faltered and Mycroft finally saw the pain he'd been hiding for the last week, “Actually, they will, but they won’t know it. So no, I’m not coming”

Mycroft frowned as he opened the door, “Fine. Stay here and mope for all I care”

Sherlock looked back out at the sea of black as the car door slammed shut. From there he could make out a few familiar faces; Lestrade in his wedding suit because he hadn’t had time to buy another, Mrs. Hudson in something plain, Anderson with his unruly beard, and even his parents, walking hand-in-hand along the path towards the graves. And then there was him. Sherlock averted his eyes to avoid even looking at him with Molly Hooper. Why did he have to be there? It was his fault that John and Mary were dead now after all. How could everyone still want to have anything to do with him? But they did. In fact, they coddled over him.  
From his seat in the town car he could see the whole ceremony, but he couldn’t hear it. The photo of them was a poor household print out from the wedding, the coffins were of a decent oak finish, and the flowers were at least a few days old. But Sherlock couldn’t stop looking at him in his blue suit. That stupid light blue suit that Mrs. Hudson had bought him. With the matching hat.  
A knocking on the window made him jump, and he saw that the funeral had ended and everyone was leaving for the wake. Molly waved back at him from the other side of the glass, and made him wave too. His goofy smile made Sherlock’s blood boil, and he turned away, folding up the collar of his coat to avoid eye contact. Molly got the hint, and they left.

Mycroft climbed back into the car and acknowledged the driver, “Let’s go”

“I’m not going to the wake” Sherlock said

“Good, because we have an appointment with the lawyers for the Watson estate instead” Mycroft replied, “They have to talk to you about some important things”

The men were quiet as they drove to the offices of the lawyers, Sherlock continuing to watch the world outside for changes to his city and generally just to ignore what’s going on in his own world. He followed Mycroft upstairs to the office, ignoring the introductions and taking a seat at the desk. Mycroft and the lawyer shared a look and then joined him at the desk.

“Thank you for coming Mr. Holmes” the lawyer said, as he opened his file, “My name is Jonathan Falconer. I was John and Mary Watson’s lawyer—”

“Get to the point” Sherlock sighed, “Why am I here?”

Falconer fumbled, “Uh, well, John and Mary made a will not more than six months ago and it stipulates that Michael gets everything, but if he is under 18 then you get custody of Michael”

Mycroft’s eyes widened in sudden horror, “You mean to tell me that John and Mary intentionally left custody of their son; their only flesh and blood, to my little brother Sherlock Holmes”

“Yes” Falconer nodded, now slightly concerned, “It’s all here in the will”

Sherlock darkened at the idea, thinking about him in that stupid light blue suit and matching hat. It was his fault Sherlock’s best friends were dead. It was his doctor’s appointment they were on their way to when the drunk driving hit them. Useless waste; and the guy only got eight years originally, until Mycroft fudged some evidence and now it was for life. Revenge was sweet like that. But he couldn’t take that same revenge on him, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Sherlock” Mycroft said, breaking his thoughts, “You don’t have to do this”

“If he doesn’t then it’s stipulated that Michael be put into foster care”

“That’s preposterous!” Mycroft cried, “Surely Lestrade or Molly or even Mrs. Hudson could take him. What about Harriett”

“Given the fact that she's been in-and-out of rehab for nearly three years, it was chosen that she need even be contacted. The will is perfectly clear; it’s Sherlock or nobody” Falconer explained, “If he can’t be with Sherlock then John and Mary said they would prefer he have a fresh start with a new family and a new life”

Mycroft watched his little brother continue to stare at the wall, saying nothing, not even blinking. He was lost in his own mind at the moment, determined not to grieve because then he would have to admit to himself that John and Mary were actually gone. It was easier to stay numb and live the lie. Helpful for him, but a complete detriment to the little boy who now relied on him. But how could Sherlock look after Michael? He could barely look after himself most of the time. Perhaps adopting him out would be the lesser of two evils.

“You don’t need to decide now, Mr. Holmes” Falconer added, “But they asked you to read over this letter before you made your decision”

He put the note down on the table, the paper hitting the wooden desk as Sherlock stood up and left the room without so much as a word. Another shared look, and Mycroft collected the letter.

“Hopefully you’ll have an answer soon” he said

“I’m somewhat hoping it will be to put the baby up for adoption” Falconer admitted, “Mr. Holmes doesn’t seem fit enough to raise a child”

Mycroft sighed, “That’s an understatement”


	2. The Letter

Sherlock walked the entire way back to 221B Baker Street, where someone had decided that would be the best place for the wake. By then, Mycroft was already there and managed to stop him long enough to give him the letter.

“At least do John the honour of reading it before you brush it off” he said

Sherlock scrunched it into his pocket and forced himself inside and upstairs, where his normally quiet and peacefully house was packed full of mourners. Eyes turned to him, but he ignored them all and marched into his room, where he found his bed covered in coats and hats. Grumbling, he pushed them to the floor and fell onto his bed, staring at the roof.

“Did you hear?” Anderson walked over to the gathered group around Michael in his pram, “John and Mary left Michael to Sherlock”

All eyes turned to him in a mixed look of shock and awe. Why on Earth would they do that? was the group thought that seemed to leave them all at once. Michael looked between them all in the way only a six-month-old could, confused as to why he wasn’t the centre of attention anymore. He and Sherlock had that in common on most days.

“Are you sure?” Lestrade asked

Anderson nodded, “I just heard Mycroft talking on the phone. Apparently if he doesn’t take Michael then he goes into foster care”

All eyes went back to Michael and grin appeared on his face as normality, in his mind, was restored. His blonde curls bounced around his face as he bounced in his pram for his audience to coo over. They didn’t, but he seemed not to notice.

“Why would they do that?” Molly asked, shocked, “Any one of us would take him if Sherlock didn’t”

Nodding, including from Mrs. Hudson, who looked forward to the idea of dressing him up like a doll every day. Anderson just shrugged, ending the conversation with an air of uncertainty.

Sherlock slipped his hand into his pocket and touched the crumpled letter gingerly as he stared at the roof, trying to convince himself that any moment now John would walk in and try to persuade him to come out and join the party. What was the party for? Michael more than likely. It usually was these days. As he felt himself slide back into the past, the letter slowly brought him back. Eventually he pulled it out enough to rest it on his coat, and then moved his other hand to it and began to tear slowly at the back of it to open it. As he did, he felt the comfort-blanket of his dream reality slowly fade away. This wasn’t a party for Michael, it was a sombre celebration of the lives of John and Mary Watson, ones that were ended so quickly and pointlessly that it was wasteful.

The envelope finally gave out and Sherlock pulled the letter out. He opened it as it reached eye level, and he felt his throat tighten at John’s familiar handwriting. At first the words were empty, but by the third time they began to sink in.

“Dear Sherlock,  
If you’re reading this then something has happened to Mary and I and Michael now needs you. Hopefully we managed a nice big chunk of time together, but probably not enough as this letter is for if Michael is under eighteen. I didn’t want to write this, but Mary seems to know you better than me these days and figured you might not be so open to the idea of raising Michael. After some thinking, I figured she was right, and you’re probably locked away somewhere pretending like we’re still around.  
But you can’t do that this time. You can’t bury your head in the sand because we still need you. We might not be there physically but a part of us is there in Michael, and right now we need you to take care of him. You might not think you can do it but I know you can. I’ve seen those looks you two have shared when you thought no one was looking, and Mary has noticed how extra things seem to magically appear when we need them for Michael.  
We made you his godfather not because you were the only person, because Lord knows Lestrade fought hard for that one, but because you were the right person. Mary and I both know deep down that you can and will raise Michael to be a great boy and eventually a man, but you need to believe it too. Just promise me you won’t turn him into a  
science experiment along the way.  
We both trust you Sherlock, now don’t let us down.  
John”

Sherlock threw down the letter in frustration as he blinked back the tears that finally emerged. The tears he had been determined to keep in forever and never release, but without his make-believe world he was powerless to stop them, and hidden in his room, he let them out, extremely reluctantly. Yes, he knew what he had to do, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready for it, something that brought about a sense of humanness he never thought he’d have to feel again; fear.


End file.
